I'm Sorry
by Valkyrie Of The Dead
Summary: At a crime-scene Cassie Floyd meets Sherlock Holmes, who decides to do experiment with her, without her knowledge: He wants to fake being in love with her. But what happens when Cassie finds out? What happens when Sherlock's feelings change? Pairings: Sherlock/OC, maybe others mentioned later on.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey everyone! This is my story about Cassie and Sherlock. I haven't made up my mind yet when this happens, maybe I'll do that later. Please R&R!  
Disclaimer: I'm neither Steven Moffat, nor Mark Gatiss nor Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, so I just own Cassie :(**_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I don't believe you!" I screamed, crying._

_My tears mingled with the water pouring out of my hair and dropped of my chin. I shot a last look at Sherlock, turned around and started running._

_"Cassie! Wait, please! Let me explain!"_

_I heard his footsteps behind me and ran faster, but with his long legs he had soon reached me and gripped my arm. I whirled around, deliberately hitting his face with my long hair. My vision was blurred, but I could still see him. His dark curls sticked to his head,wet from the down-pouring rain, his usually dark coat even darker, his scarf wet, but snuggly around his white neck that was so beautiful and that had been mine not long ago._

_Sherlock loosened his grip on my thin jacket and I yanked my arm out of his hand. I shivered violently, and despite my anger about Sherlock I wished I still stood so close to him, his coat around us both, me safe in his arms. But I wasn't going to go back to there._

_"What?" I spat out like venom._

_Sherlock held his hands up in surrender, like he did with the little terrified girl on the last case. She had been scared to death and hadn't spoken a word. Was I a little terrified girl to him now?_

_"Please, Cassie... I love you, I'm sorry." He said._

_I could only stare at him. New tears welled up with the memory of how we met, how we first kissed, how he became my boyfriend, I became his girlfriend, how it developed into more than just a crush. But these memories were built on lies. And I didn't want to live a life with a liar._

_"It was fake. Everything was fake! I hate you! I don't want to see you ever again!"_

_The words were mean and were meant to hurt him, but it was true. I knew my anger changed what I felt but in the moment these words were true._

_Before I turned around, I saw the look of shock and hurt in his eyes. Sherlock always knew if someone was lying. In this moment I knew he wished he didn't, because he saw that I really meant those words._

_"Cassie..." His voice broke, it wasn't more than a hoarse whisper._

_I turned and ran, violently wiping my eyes and knew he wasn't following me, but I didn't look back. I stumbled slightly as I ran out of the dark alley onto the street._

_Suddenly I heard Sherlock shouting my name, as something hit me and send me flying through the air. I was out before I touched the ground._

_And in that moment Sherlock's broken heart shattered into a thousand pieces._

Cassie

I looked around my kitchen in confusion. Where had I put that blasted knife? I knew I had used it just a few minutes ago to cut the meat for the chicken curry. I went to the bathroom, I had a bad habit of taking whatever I had in my hand with me and putting it on the small table next to the bathroom. But it wasn't there.  
I jumped when I heard the scream, a terrified, blood-curling scream, through the open window. I ran towards it and looked outside. My flat was in the fourth story of one of the oldest buildings in London and I had a pretty good view but I couldn't see anything suspicious. My hands were shaking as I took out my phone and rang the police.

"Hello? My name is Cassandra Floyd, I just heard someone screaming. - No, someone who was scared to death, it was really... unnerving. - I don't know where it came from, certainly not the building I live in. - My address? Yes, sure, sorry..."

I quickly told him my address, then hung up. I had completely forgotten about the knife.

Sherlock  
_24 hours later_

"Miss Floyd, these fingerprints are definitely yours. I'm sorry, but they are."

Sherlock watched as the young woman burst into tears as the sergeant told her about the fingerprints on the murder weapon. He was excited. Finally, a case! Lestrade had phoned him and told him about the strange case in Manchester that nobody could figure out, because there was no motive.

"Sherlock! What have you got?" Sherlock turned around to John and the officer, looking expectantly at him.

"Hm? Oh, yes, sure." Sherlock looked at the victim again, a man in his early thirties, who had died because of several knife wounds and a slashed throat.

"Alright. Our victim was in his early thirties, recently left his girlfriend, parents are dead, two sibling, one sister, one brother, he had one dog. He has always lived here in Manchester, and lived in this flat for about ten years now. The killer was smaller than him and stabbed him a few times, then, as the victim was on his knees, slashed his throat. The killer knew where to stab, he always cut big arteries. Even without the slashed throat he would have died. The knife was probably used by a woman."

He looked at John who smiled slightly.

"I'll question the woman in a few minutes. Coming, John?" He asked, and left without looking back.

John quickly caught up with him.

"Do you think it was the woman? Cassandra Floyd, was it?" John asked quietly.

"I'm not entirely sure. From what I deduced and heard, she really doesn't have a motive. And she isn't a psychopath or sociopath either. But there aren't that many other people who could have done it and her fingerprints show that the knife was hers and she was the last person who used it. Lestrade was right, this is not as bad as expected." Sherlock smiled.

Cassie

I was in shock. I knew it, but I didn't try to do anything against it. Tears silently fell down my cheeks. I didn't understand anything. How did my knife become a murder weapon? How did the real killer get the knife? Why did everyone think I was the killer?

Suddenly the door to my cell opened and three men entered: the sergeant, a blonde man who was as small as I am and a tall man in a dark blonde man introduced himself as John Watson and the other man as Sherlock Holmes.

"Cassandra Floyd."

Now I had time to look at them both, closer this time, because neither of the men said anything, Mr Holmes just looked at me intently.

John Watson was a nice guy,he wore jumpers and jeans. His face was tanned, his smile open and honest.

Sherlock Holmes was different. I couldn't see what he wore underneath the long, woolen coat, but a blue scarf was tied snugly around his neck. He had very pale skin, and was very thin. His mercury eyes looked into hers and the cold steel in them caught her and didn't let her go.

"Miss Floyd, why, do you think, do these idiots see you as the killer? You haven't had any contact to the victim, and you loath killers ever since your father was murdered, so who did it, and who would want you to be in jail?" Mr Holmes said with a deep, calm baritone voice.

I just stared at him. How could he know that? His steel-like gaze never wavered as I frowned.

"I simply observed. Now, who?" Mr Holmes said.

"Mr Holmes, how did you know that? And secondly, I have absolutely no idea." I said.

Sherlock  
_2 hour_s _later_

Sherlock sat on the sofa, thinking. The girl clearly hadn't done it, but who had?  
He shifted his mind from the case, he didn't have enough data yet, to something else. Something he had planned a long time ago. He wanted to do an experiment, on how people acted when they were in love, what they'd do, what they'd believe. He wanted to test whether anyone could love _him_. He knew he wouldn't fall in love with anyone, but he was curious.  
This girl, Cassandra Floyd, was intelligent and seemed quite open for strange things. Maybe...?

He pondered a few minutes about it and with the conclusion not to tell John, who would say it was 'a bit not good', he made up his mind to get to Cassandra Floyd.

**Thanks for reading! To everyone who is confused about whether Sherlock has feelings for her in the end or not, this is _Romance_. So yes. Probably...  
Please review, it'd make my day!**

**- It's-Somebody**

**PS: I am in the process of writing a story with 'SweetMango22' and am writing another story, so I'd be happy if you like to read them as well as this one.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry to everyone who is reading this because of the case, I'm only going to mention it, but I'll probably not really include the investigation because I want this story to be about Cassie and Sherlock. Please R&R! Also, I changed where Cassie lives, she lives now in London :)**

Cassie

I looked up as the door to my cell opened again, confused. The sergeant whose name I just couldn't remember and Sherlock Holmes entered. I stood up and frowned.

"Miss Floyd, we are sorry for what you went through, we now have clear signs that you weren't the murderer. The police force wants to apologize..." The sergeant said.

I cut him off, "I understand. You were just doing your job. May I go now?"

He nodded and both the sergeant and Sherlock Holmes went out of the cell and stood outside it to make room for me to come out of the cell.

I looked around where I was standing. It was a pretty long corridor with many doors to each sides, obviously all cells. I had no idea in which direction to go, so I looked at the sergeant and Sherlock Holmes expectantly.

"May I walk you outside? I believe you don't know the way and I have to go the same way..." Sherlock Holmes said.

I looked at the sergeant who just nodded and left, then nodded towards Sherlock Holmes, who led me in the other direction.

We walked a few minutes in silence, then I looked at him.

"Mr Holmes? Do you know who and what convinced them I'm not guilty?" I asked quietly.

"Sherlock, please. And yes, I do. It was me who told them actually: You couldn't have done it, you are firstly not very educated in medicine which the killer obviously was. Secondly, we have three eye witnesses who say you went into your flat and didn't leave until the police came, so you were in there the whole time, but just one eye witness who is already known as a liar to the police said he saw you at the crime scene. And thirtly, the fingerprints on the knife were smudged. Someone had used special gloves to touch them, which wasn't one of those idiots who call themselves forensics." He smiled at me. I just stared at him.

"Er... Thank you, Mr – no, Sherlock. Do you know who actually did it?" I asked.

"Not yet, but I have an idea who could have done it. If you want, I could inform you when I hear something new, Miss Floyd." He answered.

"Cassie, please." I smiled.

"Pleasure, Cassie." he said.

With that our conversation ended. I looked at him and couldn't help it, I blushed. He was quite attractive with his high cheekbones, the dark curls and mercury eyes. He turned his head and looked at me with curiousity and I blushed even more.

When we reached the door, he held it open for me and smiled as I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warm sun on my face.

"Cassie... I was wondering... Would you like to eat dinner with me? Not – Not today, of course, but..."He blushed slightly and looked away.

I couldn't believe it. Had he just asked me to come on a date with him? I realised I had waited too long, as he frowned and said, "It's okay, I- sorry, I-"

I shook my head. "No, sorry, I was lost in thought. I would love to, ?" I said quickly.

Sherlock

Sherlock smiled to himself. Well, that had been easy...

"Tomorrow, seven o'clock? Do you know that little place in Northumberland Street? Angelo's?" He asked.

"I think so... Well, I'll see you then?"

Sherlock smiled as he saw Cassie blush slightly. He was sure, John would have fallen for her on first sight, for normal people she was quite beautiful.

"Until then." He smiled again and watched her leave.

He sat on the sofa again, deep in his mind palace. It had been very easy to ask Cassie out, and she was at least not as boring as John's girlfriends. She was quite nice, compared to most people. Now, what would she think about the real him? He planned to tell her on their 'date' and he also wanted to behave normally during the experiment. He wanted to know whether someone would be able to love him, not the act.

**Sorry about the short chapter, I just had kind of an writer's block after this and wanted to make a jump...**

**Please review, it doesn't have to be long,but please more than just 'continue', really feedback. Cheers!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, everyone! Thanks for the reviews, the alerts and favs, they keep me motivated! Sorry I made such a big time-jump, but I just wanted to continue... I guess I'm not patient enough. Anyway, here's the story!**

Cassie

_5 months later_

I gently placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek, stroking his curls. I loved looking at him when he was asleep, he was so calm and peaceful and he looked so much younger. His eyes fluttered open and his mercury eyes caught my gaze.  
"Hi Sherlock," I whispered and brushed his lips with mine.  
His eyes narrowed for one second, then he relaxed and smiled softly.  
"Hey Cassie" he answered, making me smile, as I remembered our first date.

_I opened the door to _Angelo's, _and self-consciously looked around. I wore a knee-length, red dress and my hair was partly tied back, and almost everybody's eyes looked at me. Luckily they all turned away soon and I found who I had been looking for - Sherlock sat at a small table next to the window, his eyes found mine as I started to walk towards him. He looked amazing in his black suit and purple shirt and I almost caught myself staring. We started talking, and as our food came, he had already told and demonstrated his deductions. The whole evening was a blur, and when he paid and asked whether he could walk me home, I accepted gratefully, as it already was quite dark. In front of my door we stopped, and I can't remember what he said, only the feeling of his warm hand carefully cupping my face and the look in his clear eyes as he bent down to kiss me._

That had been five months ago, and I was for myself quite certain that it was more than just a crush. We hadn't been very intimate so far, not bodily, as I had understood from quite a few talks to John, whom I now considered to be a good friend of mine, that all this was new to Sherlock. He apparently hadn't had any relationship before me and John was just as surprised as me that I was going to be his first.

Sherlock

_3 months later_

Sherlock was deep in his mid-palace. He liked it when Cassie was around, but he couldn't quite understand some of what he felt. This fluttering in his stomach, the happiness when Cassie was happy, this longing when she wasn't there. He could have just asked John, but he wasn't that desperate. He knew his experiment would be more than just 'A Bit Not Good' and he didn't want John shouting at him again.  
Somehow, in his mind-palace there was a new room. And instead of it being about the experiment, it was about Cassie. What she liked, what she didn't like, her mannerisms, her smile, her frown, Cassie.  
Despite his expectations, he didn't just like her being around because of the experiment, but also her presence and him kissing her. Strange.

She almost lived in their flat now. She was there everyday, and either slept on the sofa or, more likely, in Sherlock's bed, as he only used it rarely, it was quite big and they both enjoyed the warm presence of the other one in their dreams.

He just really didn't know what to do. It was a new and strange feeling for him, he wasn't used to it, and in this situation he couldn't ask John.

Sherlock didn't notice, but it was getting late. He sat in his armchair and seemed to be staring right into the fire, which just couldn't fight against the shadows. They crept up to him, making him look like a ghost, and as the fire burnt down and finally the flames went out, he was still thinking. Suddenly he took a deep breath, looked around and frowned as he couldn't see anybody. Quietly he went into his room and saw Cassie there, sleeping peacefully, her long, brown hair all around her face. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her, and frowned, when he noticed. She was an experiment, nothing more. Why did he react the way he did when she whispered his name? He looked at her and saw that she was still asleep with a content smile on her lips. She must be dreaming of me, he figured. His eyes narrowed. What was wrong with him? How could she do this to him?

He changed into his PJs and slipped under the blanket. Cassie sighed and snuggled closer to him and he put his arm around her. Why did this make him so happy?  
Slowly he fell asleep. It wasn't restful, he would wake up the next morning feeling shattered, but at least he slept.

_Sherlock dreamt weird things that night. He didn't see anything, but it seemed natural and it didn't even cross his mind that he should maybe see something.  
"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." Mycroft said.  
"I've always been able to distance myself from my feelings." He heard his own voice. "I don't have friends."_

_Suddenly he was sitting in his chair, John in the other one, and John frowned slightly.  
"Are you happy when she is? Does it make you feel content?" he asked.  
"Yes, I do, but-" Sherlock tried to answer, but John interrupted him.  
"When she smiles at you, do you feel butterflies? Does your skin tingle when she touches you or kisses you?"  
"Yes, but-" John, again, interrupted him.  
"I... I don't know?" Sherlock said, frowning.  
"For someone so brilliant as you are, you are sometimes really stupid. It's love you feel. Real love, not just a crush, but more." John smiled.  
_

Sherlock woke up, but didn't open his eyes. He could smell Cassie, smell her sweet, light scent, smell her next to him. She carefully moved her fingers through his hair, over his face, lingering on his lips. Without showing any other sign that he was awake, Sherlock slowly lifted his hand and took her fingers in his.  
"I love you, Cassie Floyd," he whispered and kissed each of her fingertips on that hand.  
Then he opened his eyes and looked up to her. She was propped up on one arm and looked at him in astonishment. Sherlock felt his face heat. Had he read her wrong? Was it just a crush for her?  
"I love you, too, Sherlock Holmes." She said, then leaned down to kiss him.  
Sherlock realised he really loved Cassie. She was more than just an experiment, she had been for weeks.  
"Cassie, I..." he murmured between their kisses.  
"Yes, Sherlock?" She replied.  
But Sherlock couldn't tell her. Couldn't say she had been an experiment. Because he didn't want to lose her. Because caring _was_ an advantage.

**I hope you liked it, I'm not so sure about it. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there! This is it! Well, not the end, but one of the keypoints of this story. I usually don't do this, but I just read the story Amazing  
www. fanfiction s/9041997/1/Amazing (you just need to delete the spaces)  
and I was just crying and everyone who likes to hurt themselves with slight Johnlock (if you wear goggles) after Sherlock's death should absolutely read it! Anyway, here's the next chapter :)  
**

Cassie

Smiling, I took the key out of my pocket and slid it into the lock of 221.  
I knocked three times lightly on Mrs Hudson's door, our now usual sign of saying hi. I could hear Sherlock and John, clearly they were having an argument, but I couldn't understand them. As hard as I tried, the stairs creaked a bit as I carefully walked up the old steps. Sherlock and I had a competition, I always tried to come up the stairs without him noticing, but, of course, that was nearly impossible. Sherlock and John got louder as I got nearer to their door, and the voices became clearer. I stopped, my hand hovering over the handle, when I heard my name and listened, even unconsciously holding my breath.  
"How could you do this to Cassie, Sherlock?" John shouted.  
"It was an experiment!" Sherlock hissed furiously.  
"An experiment? What was?" John asked, confused.  
"Her! I wanted to know if someone could love me, someone else than the woman! It started just because I wanted to know!" Sherlock exploded. I felt my hand drop, I felt something wet on my cheeks and realised after a few moments, that I was crying. So that was how he saw me. _"I love you, Cassie Floyd." _I heard his voice in my mind. Love. Yes sure. He loved the experiment.  
"Are you... Are you telling me that you don't love her?" John shouted, and as Sherlock tried to interrupt, John wouldn't let him talk.  
"Are you saying that you pretended, that you faked your 'feelings' for her? That you, if she finds out, broke her heart for fun?" Sweet, protective, caring John.  
I wiped my eyes furiously and stormed down the stairs, not even bothering to be quiet. Should they hear me. I felt fury rolling in waves through me. How could Sh- _he _do this? But I was grateful, too. Because of John I had found out. Better broken-hearted than wasting even more time with a liar.

Sherlock

"Are you saying that you pretended, that you faked your 'feelings' for her? That you, if she finds out, broke her heart for fun?" John screamed at Sherlock, furiously.  
Suddenly, Sherlock noticed something. His eyes widened and he looked at the door in shock.  
"She just did, John." He whispered, his voice broken.  
John looked at him, confused, until he heared someone running down the stairs.  
"Oh god..." He said quietly.  
Sherlock nearly kicked himself. The quiet creaking of the steps, why on earth did he dismiss that sound?  
"No, I didn't. Not in the end." He answered John's questions, then grabbed both his coat and scarf, and without putting them on, he ran couldn't see Cassie, so while he tried to figure out where she was, he quickly puton his coat and scarf, then he started to run.

There she was, in front of him, maybe a hundred metres. She turned right into another dark alleyway, even further away from the main road.  
"Cassie, wait! Please!" Sherlock stopped and turned around. Her eyes were red of crying, her face wet because of the tears and the heavy rain that had started to fall. Sherlock ran even faster and caught up with her.  
"I'm sorry." Sherlock said, seriously meaning it.  
"I don't believe you!" She screamed, her voice about two octaves higher than normal.  
Then she turned and ran again. Sherlock alost groaned. He needed her to stop, he needed to explain...  
"Cassie! Wait, please! Let me explain!" Sherlock shouted and ran after her, quickly catching up with her. He gripped her arm and in the next second he could feel the pain in his face of her hair hitting him as she whirled around.  
Out of reflex he losened his grip, and she yanked her arm away. She was shivering violently, tears streaming down her face.  
"What?" She spat out, and Sherlock very nearly flinched. That, and that she didn't want him to touch her hurt. Hurt a lot.  
Sherlock looked at her and knew that he had to be careful. He held his hands up in surrender and hoped she would understand that he wanted to explain, but knew he had made a mistake when her eyes narrowed. _Damn, she thinks about the small girl..._ he thought to himself.  
"Please, Cassie... I love you, I'm sorry." He said to her, trying to calm her down.  
"It was fake. Everything was fake! I hate you! I don't want to see you ever again!" Cassie screamed, and Sherlock felt his heart break. He knew when people told the truth, and Cassie did.  
"Cassie..." he whispered, broken.  
She whipped around again, wiping her eyes and ran towards the now near main road. Without looking back, she stumbled slightly as she ran onto the street.  
"Cassie!" Sherlock shouted, when he saw a speeding car hitting Cassie. She flew through the air and landed in a heap on the streat. And in that moment Sherlock's broken heart shattered into a thousand pieces.  
Sherlock ran towards her, and when she didn't move, he put two of his long fingers on her neck. There! The pulse was faint, but fairly steady. He looked around, then pulled out his phone and called and ambulance. He didn't dare move her at all, in case her spine was damaged, but stood tall so the cars would see them in the middle of the road.

**Cassie finally found out. Don't ask me why Sherlock and John were having that conversation and who started it, because I have no idea ;)  
Next chapter is already planned, I just have to type it. Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everybody, thank you all so much for the reviews, alerts and favourites :)  
Sorry for this chapter, I just need to explain a few things and state some stuff for the next one. The next one is going to be better, I promise!**

Sherlock

Sherlock felt numb. For once in his life his thoughts had stopped without drugs, and despite his wishes he always had, he didn't like it. Then again, he mused after the drive in the ambulance, probably feeling numb was better than thinking of all the possible outcomes. The paramedics said Cassie was lucky she was still alive, and she wasn't stable yet. He just couldn't stop his brain telling him what consequences everything could have for Cassie, and therefore for him. He looked at her face, the tears still visible, and he felt unbearable guilt cursing through him. He had caused this. Because of him Cassie was in between live and death.

_5 weeks later_

Sherlock felt John's comforting presence behind him and was grateful for the steadiness he provided. He swiftly walked through the hospital doors and towards Cassie's room, receiving several nods and greetings on his way which he ignored; he was quite well known by most people here, after all, he was here every day.  
They reached the door to Cassie's room in the same moment as her doctor. He was the only one Sherlock greeted and respected here, apart from Cassie and John, and he always kept Sherlock updated.  
"Anything knew?" Sherlock asked.  
"Maybe. She opened her eyes today for about two seconds, luckily I was in the room and was able to see it. She was unresponsive again after that." The man, Dr. Greydon answered.  
Sherlock gave him a rare smile and walked inside. Cassie was in her bed, pale and thinner than she had six weeks ago, but otherwise the same since the accident. She was in a coma ever since, and Sherlock was very worried. Every second that passed lowered the chances of her waking up. They had tried everything.  
Her injuries had healed, everything was fine, she would be able to stand up and be released any time now - if she was awake. Sherlock sat down in the chair next to the bed, took Cassie's hand in is right and touched her face with his left.  
"Wake up. Please. I need you. I love you." With those words Sherlock stood up and left. He simply couldn't bear being in the room anymore.

Cassie  
_2 hours later  
_

When I woke up, I didn't immediately opened my eyes. I felt the warm sun on my face, the linen of the sheets, I heard a quiet beeping and it took me a while to realise that the sound came from a heart monitor, I also heard some voices, but I couldn't understand them. I could smell disinfectant, and when I opened my eyes, I realised I was in a hospital. What happened? I quickly checked my body for injuries, but there weren't any. I was wondering what happened, when I suddenly remembered my fight with Sherlock and being hit by something... What was that?  
Before I could do anything else, a nurse entered the room. Maybe I could get answers from her.  
"Excuse me?" I whispered, I couldn't speek any louder as my throat was dry and it felt like I hadn't used my voice for weeks.  
The nurse jumped terribly and paled when she saw I was awake. She quickly caught herself and walked over to my bed.  
"Miss Floyd, you're awake! I'm Joy," She said with a very high voice and I suspected that she was still surprised.  
She pressed the call button on my desk and started checking my reflexes.  
"Joy... What happened? How long have I been here?" I asked, silently cursing my voice which hadn't improved at all so far.  
"Five weeks, you were in coma, we thought you'd never wake up!" Joy answered, then turned to another nurse who had just entered the room.  
"Kate, tell Dr. Greydon she's awake. And inform her boyfriend!" Joy said quickly.  
"Wait!" I said quickly before Kate left. Luckily she heard me. "My boyfriend?"  
"A Sherlock Holmes? He visits every day," Joy said, uncertainly.  
I narrowed my eyes. I was still very angry with him, even though five weeks had passed, it didn't feel that way for me. I still felt the anger and the hurt from that day.  
"No, don't tell him, and I don't want him to come into this room. I don't want him to know, he doesn't deserve it," I croaked.  
"Miss Floyd, he is worried sick about you, he should know," Joy said, and I could hear she was going to tell him anyway.  
"Fine, tell John Watson, his flatmate. But tell them I don't want to see either today, and I don't want to see Sherlock at all. John may come tomorrow. Okay?" I whispered, tears in my eyes.  
Joy must've noticed them, so she nodded to Kate who left instantly.  
When the doctor entered, he checked me through and told me everything that happened. I could simply nod, and felt myself getting more and more tired every second. Finally he left, telling me he would not need to give me sedatives, as I almost fell asleep while he was talking to me. After he left, I settled back into my bed, almost falling asleep. Suddenly I heard someone entering and I opened my eyes again. A man had come in, obviously a nurse, went to my IV and put some clear liquid in it.  
"What? I thought I didn't need any?" I asked. I had a weird feeling, something was wrong.  
"Change of plans," the nurse told me, and darkness engulfed me.

**Okay, this one was needed. It wasn't exactly planned, though ;)  
Next chapter is almost done!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here it comes!**

Sherlock

Sherlock stared at John in shock.  
"She... she's awake?" He asked. He couldn't believe it. Her chance of waking up had been ten percent. He had steeled himself for the day when her chances were gone.  
"Yes, Sherlock, but you musn't go." John answered, sounding as if he dreaded something.  
"What? Why not? Mycroft will probably have a word with whoever says that, so shall we go?" Sherlock asked, already standing up and grabbing his coat.  
"No he won't, Cassie said she doesn't want to see you. The nurses were able to convince her that we would have to be told, but she says she doesn't want to see either of us today, I may come tomorrow, but she said she doesn't want to see you." John said quietly.  
"What? Why...?" Sherlock whispered. He didn't notice he had dropped his coat.  
"She is still angry with you, Sherlock, and I think she has every right to be." John said carefully.  
"But that was five weeks ago!" Sherlock nearly shouted. He couldn't lose her, not now that he had just got her back.  
"It doesn't feel that way for her, for her it seems your argument was yesterday. Anyway, I have to go, otherwise _my_ girlfriend will refuse to see me." John chuckled lightly and left, but Sherlock didn't notice.

Sherlock jumped when he felt his mobile buzz. John had left ten minutes ago, so who could it be? He looked at the screen and saw an unknown and blocked number. Curious, he opened the text and frowned.  
_Your website, Mr Holmes._  
The detective put his phone in his pocket, went to his armchair and picked up John's laptop on his way.

Smirking, he opened his website. John's password was easy, his middle name, Hamish. Nothing was new on his website, why had someone sent that text which obviously was ment for him? He opened the forum and paled.  
Someone had posted a picture, a picture of a person on the concrete floor. Her hair covered most of her face, but Sherlock recognised her instantly. Cassie looked alright, she didn't have any injuries, she seemed to be just out cold. The thing that shocked Sherlock wasn't her lying on the concrete. It was the gun pointed at her.  
Beneath the picture there was a note.  
_At 08:00 pm. Alone.  
_Beneath it was an adress. Sherlock quickly checked the time, he had about thirty minutes to get there.  
John's gun was in his room, he had his phone and he didn't need anything else.

The moon was already up when Sherlock jumped out of the cab. He looked up at the stars and recognised a few constellations Cassie liked. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face for less than a second, then he looked down at his watch. It was 7:59, he needed to get inside. He sent a pre-typed text to John in which he explained what happened, told him the adress and asked him (reluctantly) to tell Mycroft and the Yard. The detective didn't want to take any risks, not if Cassie was in it.

Only the moon shined down to the empty parking lot. The Big Ben chimed eight and a door closed with a loud bang.

Cassie

I noticed three things when I woke up. Number one: I wasn't in hospital anymore, but lying on concrete. Number two: I couldn't move anything apart my eyes. Number three: There was a gun pointed at me.

The Big Ben started chiming, and on the last one (eight, if I had counted right) the door opened.  
Sherlock entered, gun in his hand, seeming completely calm and at ease with the situation. He looked me over for a second, obviously checking if I was okay and locking his eyes with mine for less than a second. I mentally frowned until I understood that he didn't want the men to know I was awake.

"What do you want?" His voice was completely devoid any emotion.  
The man who was pointing his gun at me, obviously the leader, cocked the gun.  
Sherlock slowly lifted his hands in surrender and I couldn't help remembering him doing the same towards me five weeks ago.  
"Leave her out of this. She doesn't have anything to do with this at all," Sherlock said, still without emotion.  
"Oh, but she does have something to do with this. She is your girlfriend, after all." The leader said.  
"Was." Sherlock said.  
"Sorry?" The leader asked, confused.  
"I believe she was my girlfriend, according to our fight five weeks ago when she told me she hated me and never wanted to see me again." He was still speaking without any emotion, and to anyone who didn't know him he looked like he wasn't bothered by it, but I could see his pain.  
"Well, I can kill her then, can't I?" I could almost hear the smirk in his voice. In the same moment he cocked the gun again and started pulling the trigger.  
"NO!" Sherlock shouted.  
The leader looked at him, smiled, then freed the trigger.  
"Everyone has their weak spot. I wouldn't have thought yours would be caring," he sneered.  
"What do you want?" Sherlock repeated.  
"Drop the gun," The leader ordered, and I could only helplessly watch as Sherlock slowly, carefully pointed his gun at himself, lowered his hand steadily and then dropped the gun.

Suddenly one of the men standing in the corners of the room started walking towards Sherlock and I could only guess the leader had told him so, in some way I couldn't see.  
The man was quite tall and looked like a mountain. He was taller and wider than Sherlock but I couldn't see any trace of fear in Sherlock's eyes as he stayed where he was. The man had something in his hand, but I couldn't see what. Sherlock sighed, as he did when a case was too boring for him, deliberately lowered his arm and held it out in front of him.  
I would have gasped, if I had been able to, but Sherlock was completely calm. The man, I had given him the name mountain - very original, I know, but still - ripped Sherlock's sleeve open - How dare he, it was his purple shirt! - and sticked the needle in. I could only watch, as all of the fluid inside entered Sherlock's bloodstream.

Sherlock stood still for a few seconds, then he dropped to his knees. He was able to hold him like that without touching the floor with his arms, then his eyes went blank and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

**Yay, we did it up to this point! So, until now no Moriarty, maybe later...  
Do you have any suggestions, ideas, anything? I have a roughly sketched outline, but I would love to get new ideas ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright people, I'm SO sorry about leaving this story behind... But I had a massive writers block at this story. I hope you like this one even though I'm still not exactly sure where this is going... If you have any ideas, please just contact me via review or PM, I would love to hear from you...**

Sherlock

Sherlock groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying on cold concrete, but obviously not where he had been drugged because the floor was slightly damp. From what he could see, the room had no windows and no furniture. The door wasn't visible from his position but he knew it wouldn't be easy to escape. He checked for injuries on himself next. His head was groggy from the drug he had been given, but other than that he felt okay, maybe a few bruises where the men hadn't been as careful as Sherlock would have liked.

He propped himself up on his elbows slowly and looked around. He had been right with his deductions, and more than he already knew wasn't there. But there was one thing. The detective's eyes widened when he noticed Cassie, gagged and cuffed against a pipe, watching him with fearful eyes.  
"Cassie, Cassie, are you alright?" he asked frantically while he was moving towards her.  
The girl shuffled and looked away, as if she had been caught, but didn't do anything else. She held still as the detective's hand moved behind her head and loosened the gag. Then he touched the cuffs, but he knew it would be impossible for him to open them without any tools.  
"Cassie, please, are you alright?" he asked again.  
"Sherlock!" Cassie gasped, but before he could turn around someone kicked him in the back.  
Sherlock gasped and turned around, on all fours but swiftly getting to his feet. The leader of the gang was standing in front of him, another member moved to Sherlock's side and uncuffed Cassie.

"What do you want?" Sherlock growled towards the man who was slowly walking around him. The detective sat on a metal chair with his arms cuffed to the arm rests and his ankles to the legs of the chair. He couldn't help looking at Cassie who was sitting on a chair in the corner in the same fashion as him.  
"To introduce myself. My name is Smith and me and my gang have been bothered by you a few months back... I believe that was when you met Cassandra Floyd here... The police had already been sure she was guilty and then you had to interfere!" The man had started to shout, but fought to calm down again.  
"Anyway, we want something else. We want information and we want a deal. I know who you are, Mr Holmes, and I know who your brother is... I never had the pleasure of meeting him myself but many friends of mine didn't have that much luck. We want information about your brother, his whereabouts, and some minor other interest of ours. And we want something from your brother, but he's the iceman, so nobody ever gets to him..." He paused for a moment to smile in Sherlock's direction who couldn't help but hiss slightly.  
"But - nobody ever has you. And I believe he 'worries' about you as he puts it..." Smith smiled.

_Cassie_

I shivered in my chair as the cold metal continued to stay so even after about two hours. At first Smith had only asked questions but I could feel that this would change soon enough. And sadly I was proven right.  
"Okay, I'll ask again: How do we contact your brother?" Smith snarled, but again, Sherlock didn't answer.  
I couldn't help being impressed by his resistance, if I was the subject of attention of a man like Smith, I'd probably broken down by now.  
Smith took a thin, elegant, but definitely very sharp knife out of his pocket and slowly put it on Sherlock's neck. I could see him stiffening, but he still remained quiet. Smith increased his pressure and Sherlock smirked.  
"Are you sure you want to do that?" He asked, careful not to push his neck against the knife.  
"I'm your only connection to my brother and all the information you want..."  
Smith sighed and stopped pressing the knife against Sherlock's throat. Instead he carefully moved it along the detectives sleeve and cut it open. He did it on the other sleeve as well, with enough pressure to draw blood. Sherlock shivered and Smith smiled. Without further hesistation he cut open Sherlock's shirt and ripped it away entirely. Then he continued to cut Sherlock's skin, marking him. It took me a while to realise he was indeed marking him. He made lines as to where to cut deeper. Blood started to form a puddle under Sherlock's chair, but he didn't even flinch anymore. His eyes were closed and his head wasn't high as usual but rested on his exposed chest.  
"Hey, no sleeping here!" Smith barked and only then I realised that Sherlock had passed out. Or had he been in his mindpalace? I didn't know.

Suddenly another gangmember entered the room and walked up to Smith.  
"Boss, we found something. We don't have any way to contact the iceman but what about the flatmate of Holmes? That Watson fellow, his email adress is on the website. He probably has contact to the iceman."  
Smith nodded and looked at Sherlock for a moment.  
"Bring them back to their cell," he ordered the other man.

Then I felt a pin-prick on the back of my neck and everything went black.

**Soooooo... Some light has been shed... Next chapter I'll try to do better. But I am proud that I started writing again - if I leave a story I rarely go back to it. But I want to continue and finish this one!  
Soooo, review, PM or whatever, love you guys!  
IS ;)**


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